Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)

by Amy Daws

Customer Comfort Center.

Shoss that one space confortz her envelopes her

thousand-square-foot Customer Comfort Center complete with a brick fireplace, leather lounge chairs, and a coffee machine that dispensed an incredible variety of gourmet coffee, I nearly fell to my knees and wept.

Shows how serious company will take customer care and hoe badly they want to stay afloat in this cut throat world

“Book boyfriend,” she repeats. “The leading male in a romance novel that readers claim ownership of because he doesn’t likely exist in the real world. Basically, the ideal man.”

My abs vibrate as I bite my lip and try to stifle back the laugh bubbling inside me. I don’t know how much coffee she’s had today, but I’m certain it was way too much. “Betty gets a hug from me every time I see her. She knows the guys in the shop love her baked goods.”

“I’m sorry, I get emotional when I’m hungry. You know how some people get hangry? Hungry and angry? I get emongry. Emotional and hungry. It’s a thing. I got them to enter it in Urban Dictionary.”

“You are a walking, fucking tease, you know that?” he states with a shake of his head. He grabs a beer, twists the cap off, and drinks half the bottle in one go. “How so?” I ask with a laugh, my mouth still full of doughy goodness. “I just stuffed my face with a breadstick like I haven't eaten carbs in years.”

I glance down at his hard body, scoffing because it doesn’t look like he has a single soft spot anywhere. With a wistful sigh, I reach for a beer, and he quickly pulls the bucket out of my reach. He eyes me firmly, those sapphire blues turning to slits.

I lower the bottle, and he shoots me a satisfied smirk that actually makes him look even more handsome.

This makes me giggle so hard, I nearly spew out the beer in my mouth.

sitting back in his seat, his long legs spread wide, his big feet taking up all the space between our chairs.

I stare down at his warm hands on me. They are rough and hard looking, but not greasy, as one might expect of a mechanic. And the way his mouth curved when he said vibe has managed to send an instant jolt of awareness through my entire body. I actually feel my pelvis tilting toward him like it’s developed a mind of its own.

Well, for the next week at Tire Depot, I’m the creeper, Squints, and Miles is Wendy frickin’ Peffercorn.

He was stacking a bunch of tires. So many tires. They must have just gotten a shipment in or something because he was sweating profusely. At one point, he stopped what he was doing, unzipped his charcoal coveralls and pulled them off his shoulders to cool down. He was wearing another one of those hot, tight athletic tanks. Nike brand. Black. But I could tell it was soaked through with sweat. His arms were glistening in the light as he wiped his brow on his grease-covered forearm. He grabbed a bottle of water, took several long drinks, his thick neck contracting with each swallow, and proceeded to pour the remaining contents down his face.

blue eyes were glowing so brightly against his tan complexion that he didn’t seem real. I seriously felt my knees wobble

Sex appeal wasn’t created in a gym with weights and treadmills. No, it was born in powerful, grungy garages where men, real fucking men worked with their hands. Where they got so dirty, they had to use a special manly soap to clean themselves up. You can’t find that shit at Bath & Body. Pure fucking testosterone.

I reach out and comb my fingers through his short, black strands, moisture coating all five of my digits. My insides squeeze at the intimacy behind this embrace.

continue my path from the top of his head down to the base of his taut, strong neck.

I suddenly realize we’re not alone and quickly force myself to stop petting the hot mechanic.

I had to bite my fist to stop myself from laughing out loud when she dreamily closed her eyes, licked her lips seductively, and air-kissed the room. She totally writes dirty books.

kiss her on the cheek. I pull back and freeze, staring into her wide and clearly surprised eyes. She smells like fucking flowers,

our parents are hornballs,

“Dirty Birdy’s Book Blog.

Because her lips are on mine, and they taste like fucking cherries.

press my lips to Mile’s perfect mouth.

But deep down, I know I’m more. I’m a creator of stories. Stories that have a plot and an arc and a journey. Yes, they experiment in BDSM. Yes, they do anal. And yes, you will probably get horny when you read them, but they still mean something to me. I’m still proud of them when I type The End. And I love the fact that I have readers who get to escape their regular lives for a while and pretend that they’re someone else. I give them book boyfriends like Miles.

And fucking hell, this giant of a man feels so good under my hands. I had to yank him down by his neck to bring our lips together. God, he’s tall and firm. So firm. Every muscle in his body is tight and hot beneath my touch. I can’t help but run my hands appreciatively over his triceps as our lips dance together in the best kiss I’ve had in years.

angle

I may have started it, but damn, this guy has taken the lead. He moves his hands all over my body—squeezing, groping, and fondling as he wishes. He even turns his head from side to side, like a shark nipping at his dinner, savoring every scrumptious bite. It’s pure frickin’ magic. When his head tilts to the left, he gives me tongue. When he tilts right, he caresses my lips. And just when I think I’ve figured out his pattern, he changes it up. Biting my lower lip, he pulls it into his mouth. His big hands squeeze my ass and pull me flush against his hard groin, leaving me with no doubt about the effect this kiss is having on him.

now would be the point where the bad boy steals his hands up the girl’s skirt, rips off her panties, and marvels at how wet she is for him. He’d pick her up, press her against the wall, and slam his bare, hard cock into her tight, soaked cunt.

Miles runs a hand through his hair, causing his shock of black locks to stick out all over. “I’m sorry. I…don’t know what to say.” I sigh and take mercy on him. “There really is nothing else to say. I’ll just…I’ll see you around, Miles.” I turn and stride away, humiliated by the fact I was just rejected by my real-life book boyfriend.

she frees the top knot on her head and shakes her hair out, sending a riot of red waves cascading over her shoulders. She pushes the helmet onto her head and shoves the strands over her shoulder so they run down her back. I swallow slowly as I glance down at her skimpy attire. She’s wearing a pair of loose, colorful shorts with a white, flowing tank

Her warm center is snug against my backside, and I have to fight the urge to reach back and touch her bare legs.

Mercedes presses down on the top of my shoulders and lifts her leg up over the seat. I instantly miss her warmth and realize that was not one of the many descriptions Mercedes gave me when she described the warmth of a woman at the Walrus Saloon.

his triple stack cookie

sandwich.

“You could never disappoint me, babe. I think you’re incredible.”

Before I know it, I realize it’s a couple of hours into the party and Miles still isn’t here. I excuse myself from some friends to go see who’s out back. Maybe Miles has been here this whole time, and I didn’t know it. I do a cursory sweep of the outside in hopes of seeing a tall, dark, and handsome fella but am disappointed just to find Lynsey and all her grad school friends.

“Well, what can I do to help?” I ask, even though I don’t want to help. I want to bone.

Good God, man, just fucking take me!

With a feral sort of growl, he slams his lips to mine and plunges his tongue straight into my mouth. Deep. So deep. As if he’s looking for tonsils deep. It isn’t exactly sexy—it’s uncontrollable. Heady. Toxic. I can’t get away from him, and I don’t want to. My arms

wind tightly around his neck, holding him as if it’s possible to merge our bodies together.

No more dead fish kiss. God, this is living! Miles bends over, running his hands down my ass to the back of my thighs. He grabs me tightly and hoists me up, and my legs instantly wrap around his waist. I can’t quite hook my ankles around his massive frame, so I just squeeze. Squeeze him into me as hard as I can because good Lord, this is what I’ve been missing. Strong, masculine, territorial heat! I want his heat all over me. If he could unzip his skin and tuck me inside him, I’d want that. I want to be consumed by him in every possible way. He combs his hands through my hair and yanks my head back so he can drag his tongue along my throat. I swallow against it, panting and writhing just from his wet tongue. He’s ravishing, punishing, and claiming me with his mouth, and fucking hell, it’s bliss. He turns us toward the bed, and his hands drift down to my ass, his fingers greedily digging into the crease of my butt. “You said you liked anal play?” I cry out loudly when his fingers slide along the lace of my shorts, and he presses hard through the fabric right on my puckered hole. “Jesus, I don’t know. I just like writing it!” He laughs, and it vibrates his whole body. I squeeze my legs tighter around him, trying to get that sensation inside me because fucking hell, I need to be fucked right now. “Plenty of time for that later,” he says, dropping me on the perfectly made bed and falling down on top of me, covering me with his warm, delicious weight. “God, Miles,” I moan, as h...

Firstime haing sex like a roman god his abs anddick and body honesty thubdered everthing in that fucing bedroom

He quickly reaches for me, and I yelp as he picks me up in his arms so that my tits are pressed into his face. “I didn’t get enough time to fully meet these girls earlier. Hello, ladies.” He nuzzles his whiskered jaw between my breasts, and I laugh and shove at him until he puts me down. With a blissful, sexy, indescribable smile, he tucks my hair behind my ears and kisses me so sweetly, I think I just experienced a type of orgasm I didn’t even know existed. Can you orgasm from happiness? I kinda think so.

Her snicker afterward is so adorable, and I feel my own mood lightening with her.

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” she asks, making fierce eye contact with me as she shamelessly grinds her hips down onto my groin. My dick develops its own heartbeat as the heat of her center touches my erection. I reach up and cup her face, connecting our lips at last. Her gloss tastes like strawberries, and I swirl my tongue into her parted lips to taste more of her. She combs her fingers into my hair and gives as good as she gets. Then… She braces her hands on the back of the couch and begins full-on humping me. I break our kiss, breathless and a little lightheaded. Tucking her red tendrils behind her ears so I can see her face more clearly, I ask, “Are you dry humping me?” She smiles, her lips a little raw from my whiskers as she greedily thrusts her hips into me again. “Maybe.” My dick jolts, and my hands fall from her face to rest on her hips as I ride the motion like she’s some sort of wave pool at a theme park. The texture of my jeans becomes painful as my cock pushes to full length. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” she pants, dropping her forehead to mine as she continues working herself on top of me. I press my head to her chest, the painful tightness in my pants unbearable, yet something I don’t want to stop either. It’s like an itch that feels so fucking good to scratch, but you know if you do it for too long, it will be raw and fucked by the end. “Research mode already?” I ask, sliding my hands up the side of her ribs and cupping her breasts through the s...

“And what would happen if you saw some of that wetness run down my thighs?” I pin her with a wicked glare. “I’d have to lick it off you with my tongue, of course.”

I run my fingers down the sides of her arms and feel goose bumps erupt all along her skin. Lowering one of my hands past her fingertips, I touch the skirt of her dress, steal underneath the fabric, and find her smooth center with my fingers. “Just as I suspected,” I husk as my digits swipe along her folds. “Fucking soaking wet.” “Yes,” she moans, one hand reaching out and clutching my bicep for support. When I sink one long finger into her heat, her other hand flies out to catch herself on my chest. “Oh my God.” “Let me take care of this,” I husk against her ear as I remove my hand from between her legs. I turn her in my arms and walk her back to the bed. She lies back, her head hitting the pillow, her red hair fanning out wildly. The bed dips as I press a knee between her legs and slowly push her dress up and spread her thighs apart. I glance down at her needy center, practically quivering for more. I hit her with one last, smoldering glance before lowering myself and dipping my nose between her folds. I inhale deeply. “Christ, you smell like sin.” “Oh God,” she moans, and I really surprise her when my tongue darts out to tease that tight bundle of nerves. “And you taste like heaven,” I add before flattening my tongue and licking the entire length of her. “Holy shit,” she cries loudly as I proceed to fuck her with my tongue. God, she’s responsive. It’s been ages since I’ve done this with a woman because I refuse to do it with random girls. But Mercedes is definitely not r...

She squeals and wriggles against my groin. “I’m super okay with that.” With all the wiggling she’s doing, the tip of my dick connects with her center. She’s wet and warm, and fucking hell, the direct skin-on-skin contact has me groaning. I press my face into her neck and groan, “Fuck, you feel so damn good.” “You too,” she states, her hips pulsing up toward me, trying to take me inside her more. “Babe, stop,” I moan, sliding my forehead to her shoulder, my breath trembling with need. “I have to get a condom.” She whines out a little-frustrated noise as I move off her and grab my wallet off the end table. I lay on my back and roll the rubber on, feeling her eyes on me the whole time. “This is my last one, so no morning sex for you.”

When I thrust into her, this angle allowing me so far in, she cries out as my cock nearly kisses her cervix. Her fingers bite into my arms. “Jesus, Miles!” “That’s right, babe, let me hear you this time.” I drop my head to her chest and nibble at her T-shirt covered breasts. I should have taken the time to rip that off, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Her voice is hoarse when she replies, “You are so deep. This is so intense. I’m not sure I can—” “You can,” I encourage, driving into her slow and hard. Deep and long. My ass popping back and forth with every thrust. “You can take me.” “Oh God,” she mewls, her other leg tightening around my hip, her heel digging into my lower back. “This is incredible.” “You’re damn fucking right it is,” I reply and realize with a sudden jolt that it’s not like this with everyone. I’ve slept with at least a dozen women since my split with Joce, and no one has come even close to feeling this good wrapped around my dick. Not even Joce. I increase the speed of my movements, trying to chase my wayward thoughts away and relish this sweet, sweet fucking I’m in the middle of. Between the wet, erotic noises of our breaths and the plethora of moans and grunts and pants filling the room, we’re creating the best goddamn soundtrack to fucking I’ve ever heard. Mercedes bucks beneath me, meeting me thrust for thrust. Growing quieter and quieter as she climbs along with me. We’re in sync. Perfect, liberating sync. She wraps her hands around...

Croinuts are a croissant and a donut combination that this Boulder bakery is nationally famous for. A buttery and savory yet sweet and flaky combination that is basically like an orgasm in a carb.